Never give up
by chamoon
Summary: [OS - Cockles, fluff] After the election, Misha is devastated. Thankfully, Jensen is here to make him feel a little better and remind him how important it is that he keeps fighting. He can't give up, not now. Not when everyone needs him so bad.


**I'm not going to lie, I feel pretty moved by the results of the election, so I decided to write something about it. Then Misha posted the video that broke my heart. I needed to get this out there. I hope having some Cockles comfort will make you all feel better too. I am mentioning Trump and Hillary, and I am not trying to take a political position, here. It goes beyond just that, what happened is a matter of integrity and love being violated. So even if you don't share my point of view, please don't be hateful.**

 **I just used writing as a form of "therapy", to be able to deal with my feelings and disappointment.**  
 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and don't hesitate to tell me your thougths about it.**

* * *

He couldn't believe it. It had been hours, but he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Donald Trump was president-elect of the United States.

Misha had stayed up all night after hearing what the future held for his country. Division. Hatred. Racism. Homophobia. Misogyny. Intolerance. He felt like there was a huge weight on his chest, choking him.

For months he'd failed to imagine that a day would come when he would hear "Donald Trump has won the election". He knew it was a possibility, but he had worked so hard, had done so much. How could it not have been enough? Misha couldn't help but blame himself. Somehow, he should have tried harder.

He had organized gatherings, to campaign for Hillary Clinton, or rather, against everything Trump represented. He had tweeted, livestreamed, pushed people to vote. He had been scared for so long, he had been losing sleep over it. But in he end, he'd been hopeful. To see so many people supporting him, ready to stop hatred, it warmed his heart.

That's what he'd told Darius. _"It gives me hope."_

Now it had all come crashing down.

Trump had won, and with him, his dividing ideas. Misha had stayed in front of his TV for hours, as the results were slowly revealed. He'd stared with wide, scared eyes at the screen, only to see that the nightmare he'd tried so hard to prevent was becoming a reality.

Realizing he'd been holding his phone way too tight, Misha used it as an opportunity to tweet something. One last try. His -no, their last hope. _"If you care about the future of our country, please vote. Trump is winning nationally. I'm scared."_

He was scared. His hands were shaking. He'd typed the "Trump is winning nationally" part very slowly, swallowing thickly at the thought that it wasn't just a bad dream.

He had started crying when they had officially announced Trump's victory. It had come crashing down on him so suddenly. This was not the country he wanted to be a part of. Not the world he wanted his children to live in.

Misha had buried his face in his hands, feeling more scared, and more guilty than he probably ever had before. There were dark days ahead, and he hadn't been able to prevent them.

He had barely felt Vicky's gentle touch on his back. Hadn't even felt her arms wrap around him as she pulled him closer. He only remembered sobbing for a while as she vainly tried to comfort him and tell him it was going to be alright.

Misha didn't sleep at all that night. He spent it thinking instead. He didn't want to give up. Despite everything, he couldn't. His goal had always been to make the world a better place.

Even as the world seemed to refuse to acknowledge his efforts, he promised himself to keep trying. Misha would never give in to hatred or discrimination. He was going to fight for everyone's rights. He was going to change people's minds. He wasn't going to stop until he could see acceptance, love and kindness everywhere.

Tomorrow, he would make a video about it. He needed people to know that he wasn't letting them down. He would try to make it better again. So many people needed it.

With this thought in mind, he ended up passing out on his couch in early morning, too exhausted to stay up much longer. He only got two hours of sleep, before the sound of the front door closing woke him up.

"Mish." Someone called.

Misha only curled up into himself a little more. He had recognized the voice. Jensen. He didn't really want his boyfriend to see him like that, when he felt and looked so miserable.

"Hey, Mish..." Jensen whispered, as he got closer. Carefully, as if afraid to startle Misha, he sat down next to him, and gently touched his shoulder. "I'm so sorry... Vicky called me. She thought I could help."

Jensen always helped, and so did Misha's wonderful wife.

Misha couldn't do anything but close his eyes and clench his jaw, trying desperately to keep the tears in. If Jensen was here, it meant he hadn't imagined all this. It made it more real.

What he'd feared for so long and had spent months of his life fighting was happening and now there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

He didn't realize his shoulders were shaking along with the sobs he held back until Jensen gently scooted closer and placed Misha's head in his lap. "It's okay, baby... It's all going to be okay. I know it looks very bad right now, but-... We'll make it. So many people are with us."

"H-he's going to preach hatred and discrimination..." Misha gasped out, turning his head so he could nuzzle Jensen's leg. "He's going to turn this country into a living hell... W-we were supposed to represent goodness, hope. There was so much potential for good... And instead, people chose to fucking vote against values I thought we could share."

Misha squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed, unable to keep it in anymore. He was glad Maison and West weren't up. He wouldn't have known what to tell them. He did not want that for them.

Jensen spent a long time rubbing Misha's arm and running his hands through his hair, whispering words of reassurance in his ears. It soothed him, but it didn't remove the crushing weight of guilt or the feeling of grief.

It wasn't a person they were mourning. It was freedom. And the people had _freely_ chosen to bury it.

 _"We are risking our democracy here."_ Misha had told his fans. This very democracy was now driving them straight into a cold, hard wall.

"I-I should have done more-... I-I should have tried harder." Misha breathed out shakily.

"Mish, you traveled around the country to try to stop that. You gathered hundreds- hell, thousands of people. You took the time to tell everyone to vote, exposed your point of view, fought for what you believe in. You've done the right thing." Jensen whispered, slowly playing with the short hair on the back of Misha's neck. "Damn it, I saw how deeply it affected you. I could see it in the way you talked about the possibilities we were offered, I could hear it in your voice, the fear you felt when you thought about Trump winning. I could see it on your face, the hours of sleep you couldn't get because it was shaking up you too much. Misha, sweetheart, you did _everything_ you could. You tried and it's more than a lot of people can say. Because that's who you are, and that's why I love you. You don't give up. You fight for what's right. You fight for freedom and equality among the people. You despise hatred and injustice. You're not a role model for so many people for no reason... In my opinion, for doing so much, and always believing in values like love and kindness, you are an actual hero."

Misha was speechless. He looked up at Jensen with watery eyes, full of tears that wouldn't fall. "You... Fuck, Jensen, you can't say things like that."

"Why not? It's the truth. Ask anyone." Jensen said softly, smiling at Misha lovingly.

Jensen was so understanding, and so supportive. It was thanks to people like him, and Vicky, and Darius, and Jared that Misha kept going and kept fighting. They had all been behind him, had all told him he was doing the right thing. They hadn't always been allowed to voice their opinions, but Misha had felt nothing but love and support directed his way.

He sat up slowly, then wrapped his arms around Jensen and pressed against his side. "But... What's going to happen to us now? I failed... We lost. So many people are scared and- and I can't stop it. They fear for their lives, for their friends, their family... It's so unfair. We're letting a hateful man lead us... And people who never asked for anything are paying the price. I-I just feel so bad... I don't know what to do."

Jensen wrapped an arm around Misha's shoulders and brought him closer, burying his nose in the blue eyed man's hair. "You do what you've always done... You do what you do best. You give people hope again. You spread kindness, and keep trying to change the world. You remind people to love each other. You change the minds of those who don't."

Misha smiled slightly, something he really didn't think he would be doing today. "I love you..."

"I love you too. So much. Don't let this get you down... People need you, now more than ever. We all need you. We need people like you to show us that there is still hope in there somewhere. You do with people what you do every day with me. You show them how bright and loving the world can be, and for that, you just have to not give up." Jensen cupped Misha's face in his hands, and with one last fond look, he leaned close and joined their lips together.

Their kiss was slow, gentle. It tasted like tears, and it made Jensen hold Misha tighter. Misha knew he hated to see him cry.

Jensen had once told Misha it made him angry at the world, it was like being punched in the guts, seeing him in pain. Misha crying in sadness or because he was hurting was probably the worst possible sight in the universe. The man whose smile lit up the world should never have to be so devastated. Jensen couldn't bear it. He promised himself he would stay with Misha today. Make him forget about everything. Hold him until he stopped crying. He wouldn't stop telling Misha it was okay, that he had nothing to fear. They would keep fighting and they would make it. They would fight violence with kindness and hatred with love.

Misha would just have to do the thing he did best: try to make the world a better place, one random act of kindness at a time.

But for now, he had a video to shoot.

People needed to know he wasn't letting them down. He wasn't alright, but he was going to be, and he wouldn't stop fighting until everybody who was scared right now was alright too.

Misha explained to Jensen why he needed to make a short video, and his boyfriend, supportive as always, agreed immediately.

They went outside, Misha recorded it. _"The political process is but one way to affect change. I am going to make movies that change minds. I am going to spread a message of love and kindness that is infectious. And I am not going to give up. I love this country too much..."_

It was simple, it was short. But he broke down anyway, and his voice wavered as he tried not to cry on camera.

Jensen was here immediately. Misha felt strong, comforting arms wrap around him, and he let go. He cried a little more.

Today they were grieving. Tomorrow, they would plan ahead and fight for the fragile humanity that threatened to be forgotten, and that they had almost lost the very last night.

Misha was not going to give up. He wanted to give people a beacon of hope, and that was what he was going to do.


End file.
